


Whoso List To Hunt

by Decepticonsensual



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:30:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2479820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Decepticonsensual/pseuds/Decepticonsensual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Angela tries very hard to send a message, Gamora tries very hard to understand it, and Rocket gets an excuse to play with weaponry.  Just a little Angela/Gamora snippet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whoso List To Hunt

It took Gamora a few days to work out where they were coming from.

Little things - tiny trophies left on the console in her quarters, or on the table by the door.  The front fang of an Andorian venom-bear.  An obsidian claw, as long as her palm and hooked viciously at one end.  Once, there was even a fragment left on her bed, a single scale the size of a dinner plate, resting on her pillow.  In the dim light, it glowed faintly in iridescent greens and blues.

A look through the security footage eventually confirmed her nagging suspicion:  it was Angela, bringing what had to be the detritus of her hunts on different worlds to Gamora’s quarters and leaving it for her to find.  What Gamora couldn’t work out was  _why._ Clearly, it was important enough for Angela to take pains over cleaning and polishing the little trophies.  Were they a silent boast?  A challenge, even - showing Gamora what she could do and daring her to match it?

Gamora tucked them away in a drawer, one after the other, while she tried to figure it out.

Angela would drop by from time to time - checking weapons and trading encouragements before a fight, swapping stories over drinks afterwards - and now that Gamora knew where the trophies were coming from, she started noticing the way that Angela’s eyes would sweep subtly over the room, checking all the shelves and surfaces.  Then her gaze would drop for the briefest moment, before returning to meet Gamora’s as if nothing had happened.

That is, until after the day that Gamora found the scale.  It was a big, ungainly thing, and Gamora still hadn’t worked out where to store it by the time Angela rang her door chime that afternoon.  There was no mistaking the way Angela’s face lit up when she saw the scale propped on Gamora’s desk, underneath where her blades hung on the wall.

Gamora watched her, and was startled by the smile.  That wasn’t the fierce, challenging smile that Angela would shoot her before the two of them leapt into a firefight.  It was slow, and almost… shy.

"I am pleased you like it, Lady Gamora," was all Angela said.

The next morning, Gamora went to see Rocket.

"It’s not gonna be, like, fancy," he called out from somewhere inside a massive crate of spare parts.  He’d started rummaging halfway through Gamora’s explanation of what she wanted - Rocket was always in motion, moving and tinkering even as he listened - and now he surfaced, clutching a spare power pack and a piece of scrap metal half as tall as he was.

"That is fine.  As long as you can make it very,  _very_ lethal.”

He rolled his eyes and stuck out a paw.  ”Hi, I’m Rocket, have we met?”

Gamora snorted.  ”I appreciate this.”

"Don’t worry.  I promise she’s gonna love it."

"I - I have no idea who you mean."  She winced, realising that her denial came a minute too late, and Rocket chuckled.

"Suuuure."  He was already scampering up on top of a different crate and prying the hatch open.  "And I bet you just started wearing that bear fang in case you needed a bottle opener at short notice."

Gamora didn’t dignify that with a response, though she did touch her fingertips to the fang, which now rested on a chain around her neck.

Unlike the customs of Heven, the etiquette of Thanos’s court called for gifts to be presented in person, so Gamora got to see the look on Angela’s face when she held the weapon for the first time.  It was wrist-mounted, a cunning combination of a blaster and a wicked retractable blade.  Angela activated the latter and sliced through the air, the sheer grace of the motion making Gamora’s pulse pick up in ways she didn’t entirely wish to examine.

"You should accompany me on my next hunt, Lady Gamora.  It would please me to show you your gift being put to use."

"It would be a pleasure."  Gamora’s hand went to the fang at her collarbone, and Angela’s eyes avidly followed the motion.  "Perhaps this time, I will bring  _you_ back a trophy.”


End file.
